Distracted
by iMisa
Summary: Ritsuka is distracted while doing homework. Soubi decides to give him a hand. Rated M for shota.


**RATED M FOR : MATURE SEXUAL THEME, AND SHOTA.**

**LOVELESS CHARACTERS DO NOT BELONG TO ME.**

**BORROWED WITH OUT PERMISSION, BUT WITH GREAT AFFECTION.**

**I MAKE NO PROFIT FROM THIS.**

He can't concentrate.

Not when the numbers and equations are loosely dancing through his mind.

Not when there is much more interesting things occupying his train of thought.

And not when HE is sitting not but four feet away.

Ritsuka is distracted.

Yes, he is. But he is not going to admit it.

Soubi has been sitting near the foot of his bed, smoking cigarette after cigarette (Ritsuka had long ago stopped caring about his mother noticing the smell) and waiting patiently for him to finish the homework he had been doing upon his arrival. However, it is going nowhere. His tail flickers back and forth indecisively as he goes over his options, dark eyes not even registering the questions set in front of him. This assignment is over due. His grades are slipping. Surely his mother will notice eventually.

But he cannot muster up enough strength to utter the word 'Leave' to the fighter behind him. And so he doesn't.

Instead, he sits there, slender fingers smoothing out the creases in the paper that has been laying on his desk for the last hour and a half.

His ears twitch occasionally, teeth biting softly at a full lower lip. This is hopeless, he knows, but his social awkwardness around others makes it difficult for him to think of something to say to Soubi instead. He knows he does not expect Ritsuka to make conversation, the man being of few words himself. But he still tries, and often ends up feeling foolish for it.

"Do you need help?"

A soft, deep voice sounds the inquiry, and goose flesh races up a narrow back and down slim arms.

Trying to conceal his shiver, Ritsuka rolls his shoulders and turns to face the man. He is still on the floor, one long, lean leg drawn close to his chest, a muscular arm draped over his knee. Behind a pair of glasses, a cool gaze locks onto Ritsuka's searching face, and he immediately forgets what is going on. He does not move, even as Soubi unfolds himself and stands up. He is helpless, and all he can do is watch as he draws closer.

A shadow. It falls over his face as Soubi leans down over him, and he can smell the other's cologne, and the warmth of his arm as it rests on the back of his chair.

"You haven't been doing your assignment," the fighter chides almost softly, and instead of arguing, Ritsuka shakes his head.

"Do you not understand, Ritsuka?"

His name. On his lips.

Such a sensuous thing, although he doubts Soubi realizes what it does to his insides. Hesitating with his answer, the boy forces large, wary eyes to a pale face and a sharp expression. A small shake of his head indicates his answer, and he opens his mouth to offer an excuse.

"I'm distracted."

It sounds pathetic. And his cheeks warm once the words have left his mouth.

If Soubi realizes, he does not show it. Instead, he drops gracefully to his heels so that he is kneeling beside Ritsuka. His shoulder bumps his even now, and suddenly he feels very small.

"What are you distracted with, Ritsuka?"

Could it be possible? Maybe his nearness was effecting him in more ways than he'd like. His name. On his lips. Coming out in nearly a whisper, a small question. That's all it is. The way his eyes slip from the paper to search Ritsuka's flustered face, and then drop slowly down from his eyes to his nose, and then to his mouth. It doesn't mean anything. Of course it doesn't. But he knows Soubi realizes the problem.

His face gets warmer.

"Do you want me to leave, Ritsuka?"

He wishes he would stop saying his name. His skin feels warm, his throat is dry. A dull ache in his chest, could it be his heart thudding in his ribcage?

Unable to form words this time, the young boy shakes his head and turns to look at his paper. It isn't going to get finished. He doesn't want to finish it. Not when he is here. Right beside him.

A hand settles on his knee, and Ritsuka jumps. Startled by the contact. But he does not remove it.

And suddenly, very consciously, painfully he realizes he is aroused. He wants something. He needs something.

A tightness in his jeans grows as lazy fingers travel higher, and Ritsuka leans over the desk. He grabs his pencil. Tries to focus on his homework.

Anything to distract himself now from that hand. That hand that is sweeping along his thigh, fingers skimming over the seam of his pants.

"It's a good trait, to be able to work with distractions Ritsuka." Soubi murmurs. His breath against his ear, and the pressure building in his groin as a warm hand sweeps over the growing ache between his legs. Tail jerking violently to the right, and then left, he stifles a small noise. His fingers tremble as they hold the pencil. He nearly drops it when Soubi's fingers deftly pluck open the buttons along the front of his pants.

Little butterflies explode in Ritsuka's lower belly. This time, a whimper cannot be withheld. His toes curl as Soubi's hand wanders up along his growing erection.

He shivers when warm fingers close around it. Pencil forgotten, it falls to the desk. Soubi does not say anything, and papers crumple beneath grappling fingers. Ritsuka struggles for something to hold onto. He bites his lip. Sinfully delicious waves of pleasure. They undulate with each stroke of Soubi's hand, rolling up his hips and down his thighs, warming his feet. His belly. His pulse races. He pants.

Lips press against the side of his neck, and Ritsuka is unable to say anything. Ritsuka is unable to think.

The only thing he is aware of is the warmth of the hand that covers him. Touches him. The fingers that are coaxing him into a pale white light, accompanied by a mind numbing euphoria. Fingers that are steadily growing firmer on his slim arousal, and fingers that brush over his painfully sensitive flesh with agonizingly slow strokes.

Back arching, he presses himself into the desk. The sharp edges digging into his ribs do nothing to quell the hot, glowing coil of lust in his lower belly.

His ears flatten alongside his head, he shudders. Soubi's name passes his lips in a small, husky voice.

His body goes rigid as Soubi leans over him. His mouth is covered by warm, chapped lips.

His groan is stifled by a gentle kiss, and when he collapses back in his chair, his skin nearly glows from the orgasm.

Warmth radiates from his body, and Soubi silently cleans off his hand with a Kleenex. He cleans Ritsuka off as well, before readjusting his pants.

Ritsuka sees stars. His heart rapidly pumping blood through his veins. His tail sways lazily, brushing the floor and as everything comes into focus, Soubi's smiling face is the first thing he encounters.

A gentle smile. A satisfied smile.

Ritsuka's face burns. Carefully, shakily, he pushes himself forward. Stares at his homework.

His fingers pick up the forgotten pencil, and with a familiar hand resting on his lower back, he manages to finish the assignment.

Only a small tremble in his scrawl. All the answers correct.

He didn't need to think about it.

He didn't even think about it.

Ritsuka isn't distracted anymore.


End file.
